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Ernest Hemingway

Ernest Hemingway

Along with Youth

A porcupine skin,
Stiff with bad tanning,
It must have ended somewhere.
Stuffed horned owl
Pompous
Yellow eyed;
Chuck—wills—widow on a biassed twig
Sooted with dust.
Piles of old magazines,
Drawers of boy’s letters
And the line of love
They must have ended somewhere.
Yesterday’s Tribune is gone
Along with youth
And the canoe that went to pieces on the beach
The year of the big storm
When the hotel burned down
At Seney, Michigan.

#Americans #Suicide #1923 #FreeVerse #ThreeStoriesAndTenPoems

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They sucked us in; King and country, Christ Almighty And the rest. Patriotism,
 2
Advice to a Son

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 1
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A Simple Enquiry

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The Undefeated

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The only man I ever loved Said good bye And went away He was killed in Picardy On a sunny day.
 2
Killed Paive—July 8—1918

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All of the Indians are dead (a good Indian is a dead Indian) Or riding in motor cars— (the oil lands, you know, they’re… Smoke smarts my eyes,
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In our time: Chapter 2

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Jim Gilmore came to Hortons Bay from Canada. He bought the blacksmith shop from old man Horton. Jim was short and dark with big mustaches and big hands. He was a good horseshoer and did...
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The sea desires deep hulls— It swells and rolls. The screw churns a throb— Driving, throbbing, progressing. The sea rolls with love
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While the bombardment was knocking the trench to pieces at Fossalta, he lay very flat and sweated and prayed oh jesus christ get me out of here. Dear jesus please get me out. Christ ple...



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